


Talk Me Down

by bad1ands



Series: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days AU [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Aspects of:, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Choking, Couch Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom Liam, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Feminization, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Older Liam, Oral Sex, Painplay, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Spanking, Sub Zayn, Subspace, Younger Zayn, Zayn-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5521139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad1ands/pseuds/bad1ands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his knees is where Zayn thrives, and he imagines he could stay like this for days, enjoying his hard work and reveling in the limelight – a new age art form to Zayn’s deprived desires.</p><p>(Or where Zayn and Liam venture into Dom/Sub dynamics, neither expecting how Zayn reacts so ardently in his role.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [but i trust you to take me there](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388957) by [imitation_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitation_red/pseuds/imitation_red). 



> This is an excerpt from my fic All is Fair in Love and War, which is an AU based off of the 2003 film _How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days_.
> 
> Title taken from Troye Sivan's _Talk Me Down_.

Zayn feels relatively blithe as he enters Liam’s apartment, troubles lightweight on his back after the high of speeding through nightlife Manhattan. Loki’s yipping at his feet, and the view of the cityscape below is breathtaking. A rainbow of lights illuminating the darkness that the sun left behind.

“I want to pay you some attention, little bird,” Liam starts as he closes the door behind them, soothes circles into Zayn’s lower back, “but can I catch the game highlights first?”

Unbothered, really, Zayn nods and traipses his way to Liam’s vast white sectional, the leather smooth and rather comfy against his worn muscles. The crash from an artificial high is always trying, and it's rather a feat to toe off his Chelseas.

Liam putters around with his swanky gadgetry before turning on the t.v. and standing a mere five feet away from it to lend his attention to ESPN.

Calling Loki over seems much more appealing to Zayn, so he does so, fonds gently over the tiny pup as he runs his hand down Loki’s back, lush black fur.

An indeterminable amount of time passes to prompt in Zayn’s nodding off, the low chatter of sports commentators and the crackle of the fireplace (that Zayn wasn’t even aware of Liam kindling) a muted background and the perfect lull into respite.

At some point Liam slips down onto the sofa next to Zayn, secures an arm around Zayn’s shoulders that the younger leans into until he’s got his right leg thrown over Liam’s, arm tucked over a firm chest and nose nuzzled to the crook of Liam’s neck.

“You sure are sweet when you’re sleepy,” Liam chuckles low in Zayn’s ear, smooths his palm down Zayn’s spine until thick fingers are gently massaging the small of his back.

Zayn can only hum in response, aroused by the piney citrus clinging to Liam’s throat, shirt collar. Somewhere in a far corner of his mind he’s able to grasp that pine and citrus shouldn’t overlap to stimulate both his olfactory and taste receptors, but that doesn’t stop his tongue from darting out to flick just under Liam’s jaw.

Liam barely flinches, takes the attack in stride to simply lean back further into the couch, spread his thighs wider, deftly work calloused fingertips under the knit of Zayn’s sweater to press Zayn’s hips heavier to his leg.

Encouraged and awaking from his stupor, Zayn regains a bit of muscle control to roll his stiffening dick down onto Liam, let his man feel it twitch as he suctions his lips just over the hollow of Liam’s throat, tongue laving to sooth any sting. A few nips are thrown in for good measure as Liam’s hand comes up to caress the nape of Zayn’s neck, sharp gasps making Zayn want to grind harder into Liam’s sturdy thigh.

“Hey, hey, slow down, baby,” Liam coos, rubs his warm palm under Zayn’s sweater to rest between his shoulder blades as Liam’s other hand fixes itself on Zayn’s jaw.

Zayn hadn’t actually been aware that pitched whimpers were running rampant past his lips, but as soon as he pulled his mouth away from Liam’s neck he had to assess his mark, kitten-lick over the abused skin. And that had let his vocals run free with noise, apparently.

Presently, Zayn takes a deep breath, sturdies his left hand to the couch and the right just over Liam’s heart, begins maneuvering himself onto Liam’s lap, which Liam helps him with by trailing his hand from Zayn’s jaw to the backside of his thigh to pull Zayn over both of his own legs to settle on top of them.

“Slow,” Zayn consents, locks his eyes with Liam’s. And he does move leisurely, fingers kneading over Liam’s pecs before strolling their way to the back of his neck to nestle themselves in the shorter locks at his nape. 

Looking into Liam’s eyes the whole while, the man is solid and assured, but his eyes are wide and a bit hazy. Zayn imagines he looks much the same, ruffled by a bit of sleep left in his features and mouth blushing.

They both know that they’ve already gained too much momentum to gently roll to a standstill; Stopping now would be disastrous – bruised limbs and a mess of an intersection. So they’ll have to settle with not making it past the green light and instead too far over the crosswalk. And that’s possibly the worst analogy Zayn has ever conjured, but –

He kisses Liam then, determined yet gentle as he frames a top lip and allows his nose to rest against Liam’s. And Liam opens up in response, snakes his tongue out to trail Zayn’s bottom lip just as his hands grip hips.

It’s sloppy, really, with both lads looking to gain the upper hand. But Zayn loves it, loves the pressure of paws squeezing his arse and teeth tugging at his lip and bright eyes wide and dark and wanting. Not to mention, Zayn can feel Liam’s bulge pressed to his arse, and the grunts uttered every time he rocks down against Liam are dangerously wanton.

Soon Zayn won’t be able to hold off longer, will _have_ to get Liam into his mouth, but for now he takes the time to map out the ridges and contours of Liam’s shoulders, chest. Lazily undo the top few buttons of Liam’s Henley just to offer a cheeky smirk and get the same in return. He thumbs over pert nipples and elicits a sharp yip from Liam, the latter making quick work of punishment by landing a playful swat over Zayn’s bum.

“You just can’t get enough of my arse, hmm?” Zayn taunts, cuts through the silence as he rises on his knees slightly, pushes back into the cup of Liam’s hot palms with bold intentions.

Liam just tugs Zayn back down, ruts up and swivels his hips without breaking eye contact. “I would watch that mouth, little bird,” he lifts a thumb to press against Zayn’s lower lip, drag it down lingeringly, “Only my good lads get special attention.”

Inexplicably, a whine chokes its way out of Zayn’s throat, distorts his features into displeasure and pushes him to cocoon into Liam’s embrace, snuffle into his neck for the intimacy of skin to skin contact. And he doesn’t know which further instigated the awful flush creeping down his neck – the type of play Liam’s words conveyed or how he reacted to them.

“Zayn,” Liam calls his notice, calm and stern as he removes his feverish hands from Zayn’s backside, helps the crème sweater to find it place covering Zayn once again. “I need you to look at me, love.”

Still trying to recover from the sudden onslaught of emotion, Zayn just clenches his fists tighter into Liam’s shirt from where they’re serving as a barrier between chests, squeezes his eyes a bit tighter and presses his forehead into Liam’s collarbone.

Mercifully, the older boy allows Zayn to come back at his own pace, offers soothing touches up and down his arms and gentle noises Zayn thinks a mother might sound to reassure their offspring. (Which is a bit odd considering the situation, but.)

Eventually Zayn raises his head and lets his hands fall lower against Liam’s stomach, fingers aching a bit from the release of their tight hold on Liam’s shirt. And a new blush is eating its way at his cheeks now because he’s a bit shy to meet Liam’s gaze that’s hotly observing his expressions, slowly creeping up in degree to where it’s burning a hole through Zayn’s skin. Or at least that’s what his mind plays it up to be. All he can do to avoid confrontation is turn his cheek, focus on Liam’s inked forearm.

A tender kiss is pressed briefly just below the jut of Zayn’s cheekbone, and Zayn can’t help but lean into it slightly. But he’s only left with tingling skin once Liam pulls back to get down to business. “We can stop now, Zayn. We don’t have to take it any farther until we’re both ready.”

Zayn only puckers a pout at that, not wanting to quit but not knowing exactly what to say to explain what came over him.

Liam tries a new tactic: “Have you ever played out a scene before, Zayn? We don’t even have to go there, but I know you’ve reacted positively to dom/sub overtones before, so that’s why I initiated it.”

“I’ve never – I don’t…” is what Zayn fumbles with, sighing deeply because he sounds like a fool.

“That’s alright, baby,” Liam coos with his hand running up and down Zayn’s spine over the sweater, a coaxing pressure almost. He seems to understand what Zayn was getting at. “Just let it out, yeah? It’s just me.”

That shouldn’t strike a cord inside of Zayn. They’ve barely known each other four days, after all. But Zayn resonates with Liam’s point anyway, feels like the man is one of the more accepting, genial souls he’s ever met. So he leans in to share a slow, supple kiss, hands pressing flat to Liam’s waist. 

Righting himself after a moment to breathe in and out, Zayn articulates, “I’ve never explicitly defined any sort of BDSM scene with anyone. Like, aspects may have been incorporated, but…”

“That’s fine,” Liam assures, rubs soothing circles into Zayn’s jaw, “We don’t have to put a definition to it. Just whatever you want and are comfortable with.”

“Okay,” Zayn enunciates, eyes still downcast, finger fidgeting over Liam’s stomach, taking note for the first time of the thicker skin around it.

A moment flits by. “Do you want to tell me what you were feeling when you closed off?” Liam questions softly, head tilting to try and secure the boy’s gaze.

Again Zayn goes for Liam’s buttons, locks eyes on wispy chest hairs because – _yes_. “Um,” he starts distractedly, “I just felt really vulnerable, like. I didn’t want to think about not pleasing you, maybe?” his explanation ends in a lilt, a question as he finally meets Liam’s thoughtful eyes.

Liam’s features soften in a bit of understanding. “No, Zayn. You could never disappoint. Nothing you’d do would be wrong.”

Falling back into Liam’s chest is the most natural thing Zayn’s done all night, muffling an “Okay” against Liam‘s shoulder.

“Can I ask where we’re at?” Liam requests after a minute or two of relative silence, fire dancing still and ESPN talk dulled. “We can do whatever you want, babe. Cuddle, sleep, play a bit of Fifa or summat,” he chuckles at the end.

“Um,” Zayn raises his head to flick his eyes to Liam’s, “I think I want to be good for you.”

“Yeah?” Liam lifts a brow, tugs up a smile, “you’re being just perfect right now.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, the movement allowing the release of an unbelievable amount of tension. “I want to be your good lad,” he mutters, bounces his arse down over a half-hard cock to drive home the point.

“Alright, alright,” Liam tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a groan in that his cock is definitely perking up with interest. “Stay still so I don’t bust, sweetheart.”

Predictably, Zayn only smirks mischievously at that, grinds just a bit slower for a pause.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Liam warns, delivers a rather harsh smack to Zayn’s backside.

An exhale hiccups out of Zayn as his brows furrow. “You can’t just spank me whenever I’m naughty, Liam.” His arms nearly cross in defiance, but he imagines Liam would merely eat it up.

Slightly affronted, Liam’s eyes widen, tone daring, “Oh, is that so? Because I swear you just admitted to being _naughty_ ,” Liam emphasizes, eyes unyielding, “And it seems to get you back on track. I thought you said you wanted to be my sweet boy.”

“I do,” Zayn croons, stuck between disgruntled and submissive, “but spanking?” he gives a dubious look.

Liam settles into a bemused smirk, leaning up to mouth at Zayn’s jaw, incite a gasp. “I believe you like it, little bird. Am I right?” he whispers, pulls back for an answer.

Flaming cheeks stand as response in lieu of words, Zayn dropping his chin.

“You know the stoplight system? Green for go, yellow for caution, red for stop. If you feel like you won’t like something, just tell me yellow or red and we can pause to work over it. Alright, baby?”

Zayn nods, lifts his chin and presses his smile briefly to Liam’s lips, excited to get going. “I’m green, so can we go?”

One of Liam’s hands cups the nape of Zayn’s neck, the other finding its way to fiddle just under the lip of Zayn’s jeans, and he really can’t help but chuckle at the lad’s eagerness. “Yes. Cheers, Zaynie.”

Another kiss for good luck is administered, Liam settling back against the couch and allowing Zayn to run free with his antics, the latter dipping to lick back over his handiwork at the hollow of Liam’s neck before kissing down wiry chest hair.

Zayn idly works over Liam’s skin, shuffles to his knees slowly and tugs up Liam’s Henley to finally get a look at his stomach. A garbled whimper resonates throughout the open space, but Zayn hardly takes note, plants his hands on Liam’s jean-clad thighs to watch Liam lift the shirt over his head and toss it to the end of the couch.

Zayn can’t help mewling again – this time for attention. Craning his neck upward and puckering his lips is met with an amused smirk from Liam who doesn’t dare jibe, just lets Zayn steal a peck. “That’s it, babe. Let me hear you.”

Urged on, Zayn can’t help suctioning his mouth just below Liam’s naval, fingers curling into Liam’s hips as he swirls his tongue over the succulent skin in his reach, raspy hairs caught up in the mix, and a needy groan sounds as he leans back slightly to get an eye of Liam’s happy trail. He’s such a sucker for body hair it’s almost worrying.

And the only thing grounding him is Liam’s palm at the back of his skull, soft encouragements.

Not exactly thinking over what he’s aiming to articulate, Zayn searches for Liam’s eyes, rushes, “I might want to call you 'Daddy',” as soon as Liam’s gaze connects.

Immediately blood rushes to the peak of Zayn’s cheeks (which, honestly, how much blood does he have if he’s already flushed and hard as a rock?) but Liam dismisses embarrassment quickly. “That’s very brave of you to admit that for me, little bird.” His voice is soft and reassuring as his fingers curve to fit against Zayn’s chin. “And my cock really likes the idea as well.”

An airy giggle bubbles out of Zayn’s throat, Liam’s joke serving its purpose to relax them both further. And without further ado, Zayn focuses back on worshipping Liam’s torso, straightens up tall to kiss gently over each of Liam’s blushing nipples before he _finally_ fits his hand over the bulge of Liam’s solid dick.

On his knees is where Zayn thrives. And the longer he’s positioned as such, Liam’s thighs encasing him, he can feel the confidence rushing back into him. It’s something about being able to hold someone’s vulnerability in the palm of his hand (literally), witness the stuttering underside of a jaw and the overall loss of control.

And the fact that he’ll be able to unravel sure, poised, ardent Liam Payne sends a power rush straight through Zayn, which pools deep in his belly, accumulates in his balls.

Zayn continues to pet over Liam’s cock, locking eyes with him for the older to offer a shallow nod. Leaning forward is almost involuntary. But Zayn trusts his more primal urges, noses his way from one side of Liam’s tummy, across his sweet pooch and to the other side, moves back center to whine over and place open-mouthed kisses just above Liam’s waistband.

“That’s such a sweet boy,” Liam murmurs, eyes bright and endeared with a gentle twist of his cherry lips.

For all the bravado Zayn’s amassed, Liam’s compliment still calls a blush anew to his countenance. Zayn tucks his chin and preens under Liam’s attention.

An abrupt vibration shocks a flinch out of Zayn, Liam going stock-still before grimacing sheepishly to fit his hand into his front pocket to retrieve his phone. The device goes off again, and Zayn realizes it must be a call as Liam furrows his brows to glare at the screen, backlight harshly bright, white-washing skin.

“Everything alright, mate?” Liam answers the call, fixes his eyes somewhere on the wall behind Zayn.

He doesn’t exactly mean to let out a dissatisfied grunt, but Zayn thinks his cause is dignified. _Who the fuck puts off getting head to answer a call?_

Liam tosses him a brief, contrite look with scrunched brows and a frowning pucker, but Zayn’s hardly mollified, instead more determined to show Liam what his mouth can do.

“I’m kind of busy right now,” Liam stresses bluntly, tone clipped. His hand goes to push back a bit of Zayn’s hair that’s drooped over his eyes, palm resting to cup his cheek – presumably so the boy knows Liam’s attitude isn’t result of his own actions.

Zayn doesn’t waste time, goes straight for the buckle over Liam’s jeans and then his button and zipper. Liam’s obstructing hand tries to settle over Zayn’s but the younger boy merely slaps it away, sends the iciest glower he can muster up at his date.

The rewarded glare is naught to mess with, actually sends a chill down Zayn’s spine. Luckily, Zayn’s too pumped on adrenaline to back down, has Liam’s jeans down as far as they’ll go without Liam actually moving to fit his hands over gray boxer-briefs and cup the outline of a well-endowed cock, thick and heavy.

“I’m hanging up, Lou,” Liam recites mechanically, voice tight as if he’s trying to hold air in his lungs.

Zayn’s interest is piqued at the name, but then Liam’s phone is thrown to the end of the sofa and the man growls a “ _fuck_ , Zayn,” which sends Zayn’s organized thoughts into a whirlwind.

Patience is not one of Zayn’s better-developed qualities. At least not when he’s horny and has a point to prove. And all of the above apply currently, so it’s with little grace that Zayn reaches inside Liam’s pants, revels in the body heat of Liam’s groin to trace his rasp of naval hair downward and around tight balls.

“That’s it, baby,” Liam encourages huskily, rising slightly to push his jeans and pants off his legs with the help of Zayn.

And suckling tiny kisses over the V of Liam’s groin, the creases just before thigh, over feverish nuts takes the cake for the highlight of Zayn’s night. There’s something so primal about his innate desire to relish in the overwhelming smell of _man_ , musk and all, springy curls tickling his chin.

And he’ll give in to it every time.

Liam’s dick is jarring against the tanner complexion of his stomach, already ruddy. Veins litter its expanse and the foreskin is tight around Liam’s rose-pink head, and Zayn doesn’t bother to muffle a moan as he tilts his head to mouth from base to tip, graze his tongue to try and get a rise out of Liam.

The man seems to know what Zayn wants, at least, scolds a, “C’mon, Zayn; quit teasing.”

Not that the instruction works very well. Zayn does press fingertips into the flesh of Liam’s inner thigh, though, his other hand cupping the base of Liam’s dick to stand it up as his wild eyes connect with Liam’s slightly dazed pair.

Wanton hums fill the air from both parties when Zayn gets a good grip on Liam, holds the man’s eye while he kitten-licks at the tip in efforts to grant himself a bit of pre-cum, dick kicking against a broad, smooth tongue. And Zayn can’t help but smirk, puff out his chest at the reaction, which isn’t exactly astonishing. He’s played with a mirror before, and he knows exactly how good he looks in action.

“Shit, babe – ‘s right,” Liam stammers with hooded eyes and fingers creeping to work over his nipple.

Zayn lets go of Liam to lick his palm before delivering shallow strokes from the base up, his right palm running over Liam’s chest to help him out a bit, offer touch. Bending down again to gentle his open mouth over the tip, Zayn can imagine how it feels – humid and tight. His rampant thoughts send a twitch through his cock, but his own stifled pleasure is more than compensated with a flush of bittersweet pre-cum over his tongue, a louder grunt from Liam.

It’s a bit slow, Zayn knows, but he wants to be able to become familiar with Liam’s wide girth, the taste of his nut, anticipate how it’ll stretch and paint his throat so as to get himself worked up.

Dragging his hand back down from the expanse of Liam’s belly, Zayn uses his free hand to peel back the foreskin from Liam’s flared head. It’s such an angry red that Zayn almost takes pity, stretches his mouths delicately around it and rests his tongue on the underside, the rim, pumping a bit tighter at the base while twisting just below his mouth. It honestly appears like he’s wringing Liam’s dick, but Zayn’s practiced the trick on himself enough to know that it sends a shock of overstimulation to your neurons, tires you out and makes you blurt out stickiness in the confusion of whether it’s painful or pleasing. 

Predictably, Liam’s cock spurts out a steady stream of heady _wet_ , helping Zayn to slick up his play toy. 

“Zayn,” Liam reacts with a helpless gasp, sits up straight and plants his feet firmer beside Zayn’s knees to grapple for a sense of control, “your _mouth_ – come here, sweetheart.”

The man grips at Zayn’s jaw so tight there are sure to be bruises, but Zayn will pardon it because Liam’s other hand fits itself under his pants, squeezes his arse _hard_ , and a quick tongue shoves into Zayn’s mouth for a desperate kiss.

The pained whimper is hardly out of Zayn’s throat before Liam is jerking back, which really only causes confusion and an even more pathetic whine of tight vocal cords.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Liam frets, mouth in an O and eyes almost ashamed with a sad curve, “We didn’t even talk about roughness or painplay! I’m so sorry, Zayn. Are you alright?”

If anything, he thinks he’s contracted whiplash from the change of mood. “What – ?” Zayn so thoroughly articulates, a garbled choke following because he wants Liam’s _touch_ again but the man’s got his hands to himself. “Do you mean – ? Are you worried about _manhandling_?”

Liam’s brows only furrow at that, and Zayn’s sure a torrent of apology is about to pour out of Liam’s mouth, so he wraps his fingers around Liam’s wrists, tugs them each to his mouth to place delicate kisses on the inside before he places them over his shoulders, cups Liam’s cheeks to offer a reassuring press of lips. “We _did_ talk about this, Li. I’m green. You have to trust me to use my colors when I need to, and I have to trust you to do the same.”

Eyelids flicker over brown eyes for a moment, Liam breathing deeply in and then out before he opens them again, strokes his hands over Zayn’s neck, his pulse point. “I’m sorry, little bird. I’m still working with knowing my own strength, and _God_ but your hands are so good; I had to feel you, but then that wretched noise you made –“

“I know,” Zayn flushes prettily, grins a bit shyly because he doesn’t know how that came about either. “I didn’t mean to, and it wasn’t because I didn’t _like_ it. I want your bruises all over me, and you already know how much your hands on my arse gets me going.”

The smug little twist of a smirk plants itself on Liam’s lips for the nth time. “You do get off on it, don’t you, baby?” Heavy paws find their way to the front of Zayn’s jeans, Zayn’s breath hitching as Liam gets his trousers down his legs, leaves the pants in place but sinks his palms under the article and over the supple curve of Zayn’s bum. 

A sickening keen works its way out of Zayn’s throat, and he darts forward to attach his mouth to Liam’s spit-slick lip, bites softly as he tries to press back into the pressure of Liam’s hands. With his fingers playing against Liam’s stomach, grounded, Zayn reinforces, “Green.”

A sweet half-smile is offered before Liam agrees, “Green,” squeezes cheeks heartily before slipping his hands out of Zayn’s underwear. “Let’s get you undressed, baby.”

Zayn consents with a nod, fumbles to get his skinnies off of his sock-clad feet before raising his arms and allowing Liam to remove his bulky sweater, set it delicately on the back of the couch. 

It seems they both share an affinity for worshipping their partners’ bodies, chests. Because as soon as Zayn’s settled back on his knees, Liam has his fingers trailing over prominent collarbones, pecs, tracing tattoos and eyes entranced.

Zayn lets Liam do as he wants, but he doesn’t let anything stop him from taking Liam’s cock into his hand once again, relishing in the feel of it after so many obstacles between them throughout the night. And Liam hardly takes notice, too busy inching closer and closer to Zayn’s nipples.

Zayn lets his jaw drop and quickly encloses the head of Liam’s dick once more, tongues at the slit before flattening out his tongue and bobbing once, twice, letting the slick sound of sex coat his senses before he slowly works his way further over Liam’s girth, lips stretching wide.

“Yeah, baby,” Liam mumbles, voice husky and lewd as he finally allows himself to smooth his thumb around Zayn’s nipple, causing them to pert up, “such pretty tits.”

Hardly surprised, honestly, Zayn is. Just figures Liam has a thing for nipples – a feminization kink at that. Zayn’s even a bit intrigued, never having tried it out before but his dick throbbing nonetheless. 

Subsequently, Zayn lets himself off of Liam for a mo to catch his breath before dragging down the foreskin to mouth at the tip. He rubs his palm over the sensitive glans, witnesses a vein pop out in Liam’s forehead as he stifles a grunt, pinches Zayn’s nipple.

It’s a bit of a blind, desperate mess them going back and forth with their antics. But it’s so fucking lovely.

Ducking to get Liam back into his mouth, Zayn hollows his cheeks and covers his teeth, gingerly sinks down until Liam’s grazing the back of his throat. He lets it rest there to get used the tickling pressure, but his cool is almost lost when Liam twitches out more pre-cum, making Zayn groan and the prickle of tears to begin.

When he pulls off he knows he looks like a hot mess, a fat tear pooling in his left eye and cheeks red from exertion with a string of drool connecting his lower lip to the crown of Liam’s cock.

“Such a beautiful boy,” Liam coos with his thumb sweeping sweetly over the arch of Zayn’s cheekbone, finally back from his little trance over uncharted skin. “So good for me.”

It’s a hiccupped sob, shed tears that preempt Zayn breaking any sort of resolve and clutching at his clothed cock, gasp echoing out in relief.

“No,” Liam asserts, defined warning in his clear tone, “No touching. My good boys don’t get to touch themselves without permission.”

Zayn wants to cower, and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t understand why Liam has this affect over him constantly. So he whimpers instead, clasps his hands behind his back to show that he wants to please.

“That’s it, baby boy, trying so hard for me,” Liam murmurs. A hot palm fondles Zayn’s cheek for the younger to nudge into. “Color?”

“Green,” Zayn rushes, kisses at Liam’s palm and pleads with his teary doe eyes.

“Alright,” Liam grabs his prick, jerks off a few times, “do you wanna open up for me, sweetheart?”

“Um,” Zayn fidgets a bit, trying to keep his fingers from going numb in the death grip he’s got them interlocked in, “Can I have a kiss first please?” The request it so timid, but Zayn can’t help it. He can’t control how he reacts to Liam’s allure.

Liam’s brows dip to form a crease before he leans forward to concede Zayn’s surging up for a near-frantic, wet lip-lock. “Of course, little bird,” Liam declares, reinforces by holding onto Zayn’s chin and pressing a peck to his slack mouth once more after they’ve separated.

Dutifully, Zayn settles back on his heels and tilts his chin up to offer an open mouth and eager tongue.

Groan rumbling in his chest, Liam can’t take his eyes off of Zayn’s submissive enthusiasm, his pretty little tongue and harsh tattoos. He scoots forward a bit and Zayn moves with him to hover his mouth just in front of Liam’s dick. A tap against Zayn’s bottom lip and the boy chases it with a furrowing brow, already another whine.

“Hey, baby,” Liam garners attention, “I’ve got you, alright? You’re gunna get plenty, trust. Now are you gunna let me help you swallow my cock?” he lifts a brow, taps his tip against Zayn’s lip again to test the boy’s reserve.

A jolting nod is Liam’s answer, Zayn not exactly trusting his vocal cords not to embarrass him.

“Come forward, then.”

And Zayn does, holds his mouth open as wide as possible to let Liam feed in his cock generously. Again it rests at the back of Zayn’s throat, both of them easing into the stimulation so as not to become overwhelmed.

“Christ, I could bust already just looking at the dirty mouth, little bird.”

It’s a gravely scrape in his throat and a squeeze of the eyes that keeps Zayn from shoving down on Liam’s dick at the compliment, automatically wanting to show off. But he refrains, nevertheless, feels more hot tears trek down his flaming cheeks as he breathes calmly in and out of his nose.

After a bit Zayn thinks he can take more, locks gaze with Liam’s lust-dark brown eyes as he expands his throat, sinks down just an inch more. He tries flexing around Liam’s width, comes back off of it when he elicits a curse.

And he knows he must appear wanton and fucked, lips bruised and hair crazed, eyelashes thick with clinging dew. The harsh breathing only adds to the look.

Liam settling a hand to the back of Zayn’s skull serves as a comfort and encouragement, Zayn eating it up as he greedily swallows the offered cock, sinks as low as he dares with two more inches still he hopes to get down his throat.

“The tip, baby – be a good lad,” Liam grunts out, the treatment working at him as he begins to lose his cool.

Zayn gladly sucks at the head, relishes the satiny, stiff flesh, Liam pumping out fluid relentlessly. It’s such a shame Zayn’s done little to play with the foreskin, so he pulls off to drag it up and over the tip, pinches it closed for a shock of sensation to Liam, works his tongue between skin and glans. Citrus seems to exude from Liam’s pores, apparently, his fluids bitter-tart with the hint of it as well.

And Zayn imagines he could stay like this for days, enjoying his hard work and reveling in the limelight – a new age art form to Zayn’s deprived desires.

“Shit, baby boy. The things I could do to that mouth – wicked.” The praise is a choked grunt. But it rings loud and clear. “Don’t think you can get away with being naughty just because your tongue is so good, though,” he adds as if by second thought, a ramble. 

Zayn’s almost not able to concentrate on such complex sentences while his hands are pumping, so he peers up at his dom (because he’s accepted that dom/sub play is _exactly_ what they’re at, and he’s so weak for it) to try and maintain grip on reality, but his eyes are blurring with tears, and his ears only pick up lewd slurps and skin on skin.

Still, Liam continues his spiel, seems to only be emboldened by the debauched boy’s interest between his thighs: “The next time you pull some disobedient shit like you did while I was on the phone _just_ because you’re a greedy little boy,” a rough thumb smears at the corner of Zayn’s mouth, forefinger pressing against hollowed cheek to feel the glide of his cock inside, “I’ll lay it out on you so hard my hand will become a tattooed imprint on your arse.”

Gentle touch contrasting with severe words, Zayn erupting a whimper that’s only strangled around Liam’s dick. It’s all a rush of sensation straight to his head, panic trickling down his spine because he doesn’t know _why_ he can’t decide if he’s more turned on or resentful of the warning, hiccups edging up his throat because he’s stuck between wanting to show he’s _not_ a bad boy, that he doesn’t need to be punished but craving Liam’s heavy hand all the same.

And it’s so _wet_ that Zayn _sobs_ around the furious, throbbing crown of Liam cock, pulls back to blubber out, “ _Please_ , Li, want it so bad.” In the back of his mind he’s able to fret that there might be snot soon, but at the forefront is still the overwhelming carnal urge to please and be used.

Liam wasn’t expecting a breakdown – that much is certain. But he’s quick to gentle his demeanor and lean forward to Zayn’s rescue. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart, focus,” Liam advises with his forefinger and thumb caressing Zayn’s chin as his other begins thumbing away furious tears as they fall.

He does, he does look to his dom, twists his fingers in their clasp because he has to _touch_ but Liam didn’t tell him he could move.

After about a minute of hushed nothings and pettings Zayn’s still sniveling in recovery, but his eyes are steady as they can be and his breathing is leveling out.

“I know what you need, Zayn, and you have to trust me to take you there, yeah?” Even though his voice carries authority, those puppy eyes are popping out, affected by Zayn’s instability. “You’ve been _so_ good for me, sweetheart, and I need you to calm down or else you won’t be able to help me finish.”

He feels so out of it, so vulnerable and he _knows_ he needs to get a grip but the waterworks just keep flowing, and the notion that he won’t be able to see Liam’s pleasure through to the end has his features contorting in trepidation, these god-awful animal noises clawing their way out of his throat. And _fuck_ \- there’s definitely snot.

“I _know_ ,” Liam coos gently. His hands busy themselves running up and down Zayn’s bare arms, his throat, raw cheeks. “Everything’s alright, little bird. Just breathe with me, and then you can get a taste.”

A nod is all Zayn can offer, listening to Liam’s deliberately deepened breathing so that he can match them, slow his heart rate. On the way down, Liam warns that he’s going to reach for his tossed Henley, retrieving it to dab gingerly at Zayn’s tear-soaked face and snotty lip. Zayn’s actually a bit surprised at the lack of drool.

Once his head is clearer, Zayn hushes, “Green.”

Liam’s a bit dubious: “Are you sure, sweetheart? Don’t get me wrong, your mouth is better than anything, but I want you to be able to enjoy this too. We can settle down now and there will be no foul.”

“I want it, Li, please,” Zayn requests, extremely pleased with his civil tone even if it’s still too quiet.

It takes a moment, but, “Alright, baby. Can I see your hands?”

Hesitations plays on Zayn’s account as well. Carefully he releases his fingers from their clasp: he knows they’ll be sore tomorrow.

Liam doesn’t comment on the wariness, just opens his palms for Zayn’s to lay against, cautiously lifts them up to brush his lips over the knuckles. “My brave, brave boy,” he murmurs, a soft, indulgent smile.

The urge to hide his face from Liam is absolutely ridiculous, especially considering Zayn’s had his enormous cock down his throat and is about to go back at it. But logic hasn’t played a role in any of Zayn’s actions thus far, so all he can offer in response is averted gaze, ever-glowing cheeks.

Stroking his neglected cock is Liam’s next step after having placed Zayn’s palms on his thighs. It hadn’t begun to soften throughout their rather intense therapy session, is still dying for release, and Zayn doesn’t know if it’s because Liam just has a staunch sex drive or if Liam too gets off on holding control over his lover’s competence.

Either way, Zayn sits patiently, giddiness welling back in his gut at the prospect of being filled up. And his grin is hardly contained.

“Look at you,” Liam is back to taunting, basking in his role, “my polite boy absolutely gagging for it.”

He can’t deny it, merely opens his mouth back up in wait. And he’s granted use just a moment later, Liam easing his cock past Zayn’s lips and over his wet tongue. Being able to work his mouth again is shiver-inducing-ly good, Zayn taking no time at all to fit his throat around the greater majority of Liam’s prick.

After a few moments to clutch his throat tight around Liam with noisy _gluck_ s and Liam cursing to high heavens as result, Zayn pulls up a bit, catches Liam’s gaze and entwines two of their hands to let Liam know what he wants.

Graciously, Liam delivers the request, catches his left hand around Zayn’s neck and carefully lifts his hips to fuck gingerly into Zayn’s pleading mouth.

Keening contentedly, Zayn can imagine the obscenity of his appearance, but he reckons his view of a groaning, yielding Liam is just as nice – if not better. Something about taking apart this collected man sends a thrill through Zayn, and he finally allows himself to acknowledge his own desire as it keeps his dick hoping and longing stiffly.

Wanting to get this show on the road, Zayn begins bobbing his head down to meet Liam’s shallow thrusts, risks cupping Liam’s tender, angry balls for the satisfaction that would come from being able to feel them tense up and shoot out.

“Oh, Zayn,” Liam moans heatedly, “Baby, thank you; that’s so good.”

Zayn tugs lightly on Liam’s sack, goes down a bit deeper and clutches tighter to Liam’s fingers he’s still entwined with even though his hand begs for relief from the ache.

“Don’t swallow yet. Hold it on your tongue,” Liam instructs, fingers pressing Zayn’s head down farther.

He stays sheathed on Liam’s dick for a few moments, let’s Liam jerk up roughly to beat the inside of his throat even though his bloodstream is quickly soaking up all the air in his lungs. But Liam knows his self well, pulls out just before he begins nutting.

Panting, tongue out and greedy as ever, Zayn can’t decide whether to watch Liam’s pulsating cock or his blissed-out expression, flits back and forth to witness both. And he obeys so well, both hands clasped in his lap so that Liam can jerk himself to completion.

Wave after wave splatters over Zayn’s tongue, lips, jaw, eyelashes, and his tongue _waters_ , the musky, animal taste already resonating with his filthy taste buds. But he keeps his tongue out, curls it slightly to hold all he can.

Liam can’t take his eyes off of Zayn’s face even to blink, the sharpness of his features and the smooth of his olive skin contrasting so well with Liam’s milky seed. With one last tug he nearly collapses, lets go of his raw dick to grab ahold roughly of Zayn’s exquisite jaw. “Such a good boy for me, little bird,” he exhales in a rumble.

It’s with a thirsty throat Zayn finishes his job, spitting out Liam’s cum over his cock before licking it back up, covering all he can of the length and sucking him dry. He continues to mouth lightly up and down Liam’s dick until Liam whines with discomfort.

“Let me get a taste, baby,” Liam requests with dazed eyes and a heavy thumb steering Zayn’s chin. He’s fighting to not fall completely out, Zayn can tell – a toddler ignoring sleep.

But Zayn gladly meets Liam’s lips, lets his tongue be sucked into Liam’s mouth and pets over downy thighs and a quivering belly until Liam comes back to himself. “You taste so good,” he admits, wants to be able to treat Liam like the older has him – so nicely, “I can’t get enough.”

A pleased smile while Liam edges a thumb through his spunk all over Zayn’s face, feeds a willing mouth with it. “Come up here,” Liam huffs, still working on his breathing, “Let me touch my perfect boy.”

Zayn scrambles off the floor with Liam’s hands gripping his upper arms to assist, carefully sits himself just before Liam’s wilting cock so as not to cause discomfort. “Please, Li,” he’s back to his whimpering self, “I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“You are, sweetheart,” Liam assures, “you are so perfect, so gorgeous for me.” Arms wind tight around Zayn’s torso, the younger humming into the security and shamelessly rutting his clothed prick between their stomachs with toes hooking against the edge of the sofa for any type of leverage.

He’s back where he started, coming full circle with his nose chilling the clammy juncture of Liam’s neck. And the heavenly scent still exudes, strong but nowhere near overbearing, the matching essence to the man’s gentle, convivial soul Zayn has been able to acquaint himself with. It’s a balm to any apprehension melding in Zayn’s core that could possibly lead him to regret what’s partaken.

Zayn almost doesn’t want to move from his position, rather enjoying Liam’s broad chest, shoulders, firm arms. And he feels almighty on Liam’s lap, which he won’t even try to explain because he can’t quite decipher _why_. 

But then Liam’s sponging delicate kisses up the side of his neck, ironing his rough palms down the expanse of his back, molding over taught muscles to grab a handful of arse.

A muted mewl Zayn lets escape, gives himself a moment to present his throat in submission and bask in the teasing affection. Soon Liam’s lips become too ticklish, though, and Zayn has to lean back to smirk at Liam’s cocky advances, brushes loose hairs back off his man’s forehead.

Liam’s so incredibly adorable, Zayn thinks. Always poised, ruggedly handsome, but now he’s sleep-tired and fluffy, playful. Scruffy jaw and bushy eyebrows, goofy looking with glinting eyes and pretty lips. The hair, though. The hair sticking straight up as Zayn holds it at bay. That’s what sets off a torrent of giggles from Zayn.

“What are you laughing at, you nut?” Liam questions, smile inescapable as he begins playing with Zayn’s bum, pressing and spreading with a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Zayn settles down gradually, is stained with a half-smile, though, and fond eyes. “I love being able to mess you up,” he murmurs, gaze flitting all over Liam’s countenance from chin to forehead.

“That you do, little bird,” Liam answers with a hint of somber reserve, but then he’s puckering his lips, and Zayn can’t help but oblige, multiple pecks that gradually grow giddier, messier, harder to break away from.

Liam presses Zayn’s hips flush against his lower stomach, curses out, “Fuck, Zayn, you’re so hard.”

That fact had been lost on Zayn. Not that he didn’t _know_ , but it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind until Liam mentioned it. And now that the situation is back into focus, he can feel the discomfort distorting his disposition, eyebrows furrowing and jaw clenching as he digs his fingertips into Liam’s shoulders, grinds against Liam’s tummy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Liam demands, his aura of dominance back in full force with stern eyes and a set jaw.

Zayn is helpless to his audible gasp at the brashness, eats it up nevertheless. “’m sorry. I don’t know – I didn’t –“ he cuts off, tries to marshal his thoughts into a coherent explanation as to why his own desires were almost unconsciously put on the back burner. “I wanted to be good for you,” he finally whines the most logical answer he has. Once he’s set his mind on something he doesn’t let anything get in the way, after all.

“Hey, focus on me, Zayn,” Liam instructs, steadies the boy with his palm at the square of Zayn’s jaw, fingers splayed behind the younger’s ear and thumb just in front. He waits for eye contact before, “I want to make you feel good, but first and foremost I need you to feel safe. You don’t feel safe when you get yourself worked up, do you?”

The question is more rhetorical, but Zayn answers anyway: “No.”

“And if I you’re trusting me to get you off, get you there, then I need you to be completely honest with what you’re feeling so I can talk you down before you even get worked up.”

Zayn nods along, sinking into the pressure of Liam’s palm. “’m sorry, Liam. I didn’t mean to not tell you how badly I need it. I don’t mean to lose control.” As if reminded, one of Zayn’s inner gators starts pumping his blood quicker, his tone subsequently pitching.

“I believe you, sweetheart,” Liam concedes, “And don’t feel like you’ve done anything wrong, per se. This is new, and we’re learning how we work together. I should have been more alert as well.”

Fingers clench in his lap, but the pain sort of helps Zayn keep touch with reality. “Are you mad?” he near squeaks, apprehensive of the answer but itching to know anyway. And his nerves must be written all over his face in wide eyes and a drooping frown.

“No, Zayn,” Liam croons, thumb so gentle to Zayn’s cheek. “I’m not angry. You've been such a perfect boy for me, so how could I be mad, hmm?”

Zayn lets his eyelids flutter closed at the praise, embraces the light flush to his cheeks. Next he presses lips to Liam’s palms, begs out a “Green.”

“Alright,” Liam’s tempo is still slowed, “tell me what you want.”

“Um,” Zayn works to express his urges, “I want to cum.”

“Okay. I’m going to stroke you off, then. Can you get my fingers wet, please?”

Zayn readily sucks in Liam’s first two digits, laves his tongue between and swirls around, measuring the crooks and thickness of knuckles. Simultaneously, Liam hums encouragement, brings up his left palm to lick at.

Too brief of a time span passes before Liam’s extracting his fingers from Zayn’s wet cocoon, and Zayn’s displeased grunt is eased when Liam drags fingers down his crack and wraps a hand around his cock all at once.

Zayn bucks up with a start, gasps treacherously obscene-like with a dropped jaw, digs his nails into Liam’s shoulders.

“Let go, baby boy. Let me make you feel good,” Liam mutters at the edge of Zayn’s jaw, spreads Zayn’s arse cheeks wide with his thumb and pinkie to tease around the dry, tight furl. He also takes the opportunity to stroke Zayn’s rigid cock roughly, balancing the pleasure scale between not enough on one end and almost too much on the other.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zayn hiccups out a strangled cry, pounces on Liam’s raw mouth for something to do, but really he’s only panting, not kissing.

“That’s it,” Liam commends, eases a damp finger into Zayn’s quivering hole and keeps his jerks steady, thumb sweeping over the head to gather slick.

“ _Li_ ,” Zayn tries to push back on Liam’s finger.

“Be careful, baby,” Liam is quick to admonish, back and forth they go, “I don’t want you hurting yourself, but you can fuck down on my fingers if you think you can take it.”

“I can. Please,” he assures, is already performing the honors by swiveling in tight circles to eat thick knuckles past his hungry rim.

Liam gives Zayn’s prick a squeeze, takes a moment to readjust grip before he’s stroking back up and down, adding a twist near the head that has Zayn pinching his eyes shut so they don’t bulge out. “You take it so well, babe, work so hard for it. Are you trying to show off for me?” the question ends in a tease, likely to rile Zayn up in the best way.

It’s a pathetic whimper that answers, Zayn bouncing up and down easily on Liam’s sturdy digit. He’s restless trying to find the best angle, hit that spot inside of him, so he reaches back to grasp Liam’s wrist. “Another. I need another,” comes out rude even to his own ears.

“Oh?” Liam hums, clearly amused, “I thought my good boy is supposed to be polite and ask for things he deserves, not demanding.”

Zayn fusses messily, “I _am_ your boy,” almost defensive even though it’s hard to hold a severe argument when you’re fucking yourself crazy on someone’s fingers, tears threatening to spill from stimulation.

“Yes, you are my boy, Zayn, you are,” Liam leaves Zayn’s dick to pry away the locked grasp around his right wrist, pull out of Zayn while the boy’s too shocked to fight, “And I know how sweet you can be for me, so why don’t you try again?”

“Mmm,” Zayn cries nonsense, cock throbbing in pulses and hole aching because he’s so, _so_ close. “Daddy, please – I’ll be so good, I _promise_ – I’m, sorry,” it’s a blubbering mess. And, really, is either actually surprised that there are loose tears?

If Liam’s stunned by the address he doesn’t show it, takes it all in stride. “Ask me for what you want, sweetheart.” Knuckles smooth back floppy hair.

“Your fingers, please,” Zayn falls forward into Liam’s shoulder, bites at the silky flesh to relieve the ever-building pressure in his belly.

Liam is appeased, apparently. “Okay, budge up,” he instructs as his left hand cups Zayn’s arse to help him rise, right hand sneaking between quaking thighs to get in between spread cheeks, work two fingers into Zayn’s arse diligently.

The moan of satisfaction is so lecherous beside Liam’s ear, the older crooking his fingers slightly to work with Zayn who’s tilting his hips slightly, looking for the perfect angle. It’s obvious when they find it, Liam rubbing a tender bump and Zayn turning his head to suck at Liam’s neck.

Sanity is a lost cause after that, Zayn bouncing and grinding like he was born to take it up the ass, Liam greasing the slide by murmuring ‘ _that’s it, baby_ ’ and ‘ _good lad_ ’ as leeway for heavier desires. And somewhere between Liam praising his boy for such a wet pussy and promising to fuck all the way down his throat, Zayn climaxes.

He doesn’t come _completely_ untouched what with smearing off against Liam’s clenched abdominals, but it’s the principle of the matter. That Zayn came with little friction on his cock. And Zayn’s traitorous mind is already conjuring kinks to play up in order to achieve new bedroom goals. (Feminization at the top of the list, maybe himself cumming untouched in lacy panties while Liam pounds into his wet ‘ _pussy_ '. But that’s for another time.)

And Liam’s own member begins to plump at the _filthy_ scene, at the amount of seed Zayn spurts after holding his orgasm off for so long, smearing pearly over the swollen head.

But neither have the wherewithal to initiate another round. 

Coming down is euphoric itself in that Zayn’s muscles have time to breathe, rebuild from their tears. And he nearly lets himself fall asleep on Liam’s shoulder, the man himself only fostering the rash notion with heavy palms that bleed security into Zayn’s bones and wet suckles up and down his drooping shoulder.

Soon the lulling palms are replaced with dancing fingers, counting the knobs of Zayn’s spine, tickling ribs and scratching jellied thighs.

Zayn wants to be more annoyed. As it is, though, all Zayn can do is deliver an admonishing nip to the pulse of Liam’s throat – half in efforts to hide his own grin. After Liam swats at his bum knowingly, Zayn leans back, drapes his arms over thick shoulders to greet Liam coyly.

“Just came back to me, and you’re already acting a little tart,” Liam eyes Zayn playfully.

While Liam’s already hot on his trail Zayn decides to throw him off by being candid: “I love your tummy, bumblebee,” prods his forefinger at the swell of Liam’s lower lip, “just enough to get my mouth on.”

Liam’s twinkly-eyed and shoved up cheeks under the praise, so Zayn spaces fingers over his lower belly for emphasis, noses at a soft cheek to place a kiss at the corner of Liam’s grin. “Love.”

From bumblebee to _Daddy_ in seconds, Liam twists out a smirk, a new glint in his eyes. “Keep going, baby; tell me how much you love my cock.”

It’s with great effort that Zayn keeps his flush to minimal saturation. He can’t have Liam too cocky, after all. “About that – I think I’m gunna name it Spiderman. Red and sticky.”

Instead of splutters and rouge cheeks as Zayn had anticipated, Liam’s brows pinch together to dissent: “I beg to differ. What about Thor or, like,” he pouts, fingers tapping against Zayn’s hip, “the Hulk?”

Zayn gurgles out a sharp bark of laughter, dips his head because he's really too tired to keep going. He doesn’t give up without a fight, though. “Hmm,” he looks out of the corner of his eye as if considering it before glancing back down, studying Liam’s flaccid prick and dark fuzz, “Maybe the Hulk. You’re definitely a grower,” he shrugs as if apologetic.

Catching on to the banter, Liam’s mouth falls open in faux-indignation, rubs over Zayn’s arsecheek to squeeze, nips at his jaw. “I’ll show you a grower.”

“Oh, anger issues as well,” Zayn retorts cheekily.

“Let’s talk about _your_ anger issues, then.”

“Let me live, _Leeyum_ ,” he replies in a moan, pushes Liam’s sweaty hair back like he loves before slotting their lips together, nudging noses.

It’s not much of a kiss, really, Liam finally giving up and neither energetic enough to pull anything fancy, instead just letting the caress linger.

Liam pulls away with a wet noise after their moment of interlude. “I’m not letting this go, but hop off, babe. I need to clean us up before you pass out.”

It’s for lack of energy that Zayn doesn’t protest, allows Liam to help him off his lap. But there’s not a position he can take that won’t promote either discomfort or a mess, so he whines until Liam helps him stand up.

“I’m sorry, little bird,” Liam apologizes even though it’s not really his fault, “I’ll be just a mo.” And then he’s off – presumably to the kitchen or bathroom.

Zayn’s hardly able to feel ridiculous with his soft dick out and briefs half off his arse before Liam’s back, rag in hand that he uses to gingerly clean up the tacky spunk on Zayn’s tummy, his mostly desensitized cock. Pants are pulled upright as Liam finishes with the warm clean-up, relaxes his hand to the dip of Zayn’s spine. “There we are. You can lay down now.”

“Kay,” Zayn hums, scratches at his belly where it’s cool from evaporating water. He tries sitting first, but his bum is a bit sore. On the way to lay on his stomach, though, he puts pressure on his knees, and, “Ow!” comes out in a harsh whimper. Nevertheless, he doesn’t try shifting once he’s settles on his stomach.

“I’ll be right back, baby. I’ve got something to help the aches.” And Liam’s off again, Zayn whining complaint because he just wants to be able to _sleep_.

Settling into Limbo, Zayn’s just on the edge of sleep when Liam’s heavy palm smooths over his cheek, coaxes droopy, whisky eyes alert. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs as he lowers to his knees in front of the couch.

Liam tugs down Zayn’s briefs, the latter dangerously unresponsive. A chuckle is indulged in, Liam placing a kiss to Zayn’s small, rounded bum before cooled lotion is gentled to his cheeks. “Alright, turn on your side for me,” Liam instructs next, Zayn groaning but complying for Liam to apply the ointment to his knees as well.

And Zayn’s halfway gone into dreamland still, but the tingling press of lips to the back of his hand keeps him conscious, cool, poignant lotion silky on his knuckles. The massaging pressure of Liam working over achy joints is so pleasant that Zayn doesn’t fight the low moan. Soon the skilled fingers are gone from Zayn’s, but whatever lotion that’s been sunken into his skin is working its magic, joints less tender already. 

A denser salve is swiped over Zayn’s lips, just under his nose and eyes – Vaseline by the lack of aroma. And then Liam’s puttering around, a pregnant pause before he’s quietly climbing over Zayn to ease into the gap before the back of the sofa, lifting Zayn’s head to place a fluffy pillow under it, pulling Zayn’s briefs back up and draping a duvet over the both of them.

Loki patters across the wooden floors and curls up at their feet as Liam clicks off the telli, drops to the couch and curls an arm over Zayn’s chest to pull them flush. They’ll talk everything over another time.

Zayn’s not even able to keep up his stream of quixotical meditations like he’s so prone to do just before sleep, is surprised he’s not crying from the utter relief, _bliss_ he’s swaddled in with a yielding body to melt into.

Cloud nine is an actual place, as it turns out. You just have to climb high enough in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [rogueziam](Http://rogueziam.tumblr.com)
> 
> Fic post w/ artwork: [x](http://rogueziam.tumblr.com/post/136537647531/rogueziam-talk-me-down-by-bad1ands-rating)
> 
> All kudos, comments, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated!
> 
> If you're feeling generous or want to motivate me to get content out faster, consider supporting me on my ko-fi page: [MasonL](https://ko-fi.com/Masonl)


End file.
